Betsy
by Evil Cosmic Triplets
Summary: Betsy tries not to eavesdrop, but it's hard not to when her occupants are so vocal. (features personification)
1. Oh, Betsy

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters of this work of fiction (other than Betsy, Jack and Davis) and am making no profit through the writing of this, monetary or otherwise.

 **A/N:** Written for Cubit2 (sorry that there wasn't more arguing...) Thank you, Irene Claire, for reading this through for me.

From the online Oxford Dictionary, the definition of personification: "the attribution of a personal nature or human characteristics to something nonhuman, or the representation of an abstract quality in human form."  
Personification is one of my favorite types of figurative language to use in writing. For further examples of personification, watch movies like the Toy Story series, The Brave Little Toaster, The Cat in the Hat, Cinderella, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, or The Little Mermaid; or TV shows like "We Bare Bears", "Pinky and the Brain", "Animaniacs", "Inspector Gadget", or "Scooby Doo". There are a plethora of examples of personification out there in the world. If you do not understand it, please do some research and enjoy. It's wonderful, but I do know that it's not for everyone.

* * *

Betsy knew that she shouldn't be listening in on the 'conversation' that was taking place inside of her metal walls. She was, after all, an ambulance and dedicated, like her human partners, to saving all who entered her doors. She'd been named Betsy by her human partners, and rather liked the name.

Before her current partners, she hadn't had a pet name. She'd merely been called a rig. She didn't like that. She preferred being given a name and being treated with respect. Without her services, the people who were brought to her would die. She was just as important as the humans who worked with her.

"I'm fine," said the blonde, who was fighting to pull the oxygen mask off of his face. His words were muffled, and his eyes looked dilated, the pupils uneven. He had a concussion, and Betsy mentally rolled her proverbial eyes at the man's insistence that he was fine. If she had an oil change for every stubborn male who'd claimed to be 'fine' after entering her doors, she'd be bleeding the stuff.

She'd seen this one before. He was loud and argumentative. His partner was no better. Both always insisted that they were just 'fine' when they weren't. If she had a voice of her own, she would have told them they were being foolish idiots, and to let her people do their work without causing them trouble.

"The hell you are," the dark haired man said as he placed a hand on the blonde's chest. "Part of the building fell on your head, Danno, you're not fine."

"You, sir, are the pot," the blonde, Danno, said, jabbing a finger in the other man's direction.

Betsy had no idea what pots had to do with anything, but humans often spoke nonsense, so she filed that away to ponder after her shift.

"And you would be the kettle," the dark haired one said, grasping Danno's finger and squeezing it before tucking the man's hand to his side.

"Just lie still and let the EMT's do their job." His voice was soft, and there was a pleading look in his eyes that made Betsy feel warm inside.

Danno rolled his eyes and winced slightly in pain. He did, however, lie back and let Betsy's partner, Jack, replace the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. He didn't look happy about it, and he glared at the dark haired man as his breath fogged the oxygen mask.

"I'm fine," he said again, words coming out garbled through the mask.

Betsy sighed. 'Humans.'

"No, you aren't," the dark haired man insisted. "You almost died back there."

"Not like you haven't almost died tens of thousands of times," Danno muttered.

The dark haired man shook his head and pursed his lips. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Betsy wondered if he'd been injured too, there were tight lines around his eyes that gave him a pained look. He was pale, and it looked like he was favoring his left side. She was certain that Jack or Davis (as their own blonde preferred to Chrissy) would figure it out. They were very good at their jobs.

"You were out for several minutes, I thought I'd lost you," the dark haired man said. His voice was filled with exhaustion. His shoulders tense. He leaned heavily against Betsy's side.

"Well, you didn't," Danno said, and he reached out and touched his partner's knee. "I'm still very much alive and kicking."

"If by alive and kicking you mean bitching and moaning," the dark haired man joked, a small smile playing about his lips. He rested his hand on Danno's, and Danno turned his hand so that it was palm up.

"You're just unhappy, Steve, because you weren't the one who got to play G.I. Joe this time," Danno said.

Steve shook his head, the smile gone. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. He opened his eyes and leaned close to Danno, searching his partner's glassy eyes.

"How many times I gotta tell you that I was in the Navy, not the Army?" Steve asked, voice quiet.

Danno chuckled and shook his head, winced at the pain, and then his eyes started rolling and Betsy felt the urge to go faster building up inside of her as her siren blared out a warning to all who dared get in her path. Something had shifted, the blonde detective's condition had gotten worse and there was no time to waste. She had to get him to the hospital now.

She didn't need Davis to press the pedal down to the floor, Betsy was already on it. She surged forward, nearly bowling over a small car that hadn't moved out of her path quick enough. She hated when vehicles felt like they had the right of way ahead of her. She was an emergency vehicle, she always had the right of way, and she had no problem with pushing them off the road if they got in her way.

"Danny?" Steve said, panic clear in his voice.

Betsy wished that she could offer some comfort to the man. Jack had no time for that either, he was focused on the now unconscious blonde who was still breathing, but was unresponsive to Jack's attempts to bring him back to consciousness.

"Danny, come on, man, don't do this," Steve said, voice quiet and tight.

Betsy flew down the highway, the hospital was only a few miles away. She could make it in a less than a few minutes, if jackass cars and trucks didn't get in her way. Her siren echoed in and around her, and the lights bathed the area in blues and reds. Still, there were some vehicles that did not clear the path immediately. Frustrated, Betsy, and her driver, swerved to avoid them, internally apologizing to those in the back as they were jostled.

"Fucking assholes," Davis cursed, scowling at the truck that had finally lumbered off to the side. "Sorry, Jack."

Betsy wished she could communicate her own frustration at the idiots who stood in her path. As it was, she could only rev her engine in irritation, and hope that there were others like herself who would understand.

"What's our ETA?" Jack asked, mouth turned down at the corners as he took Danno's vitals.

"If everyone will get out of our way, two, three minutes," Davis said.

"Okay," Jack said.

"Is he okay?" Steve asked. "What's wrong?"

"He lost consciousness, I don't like his vitals. The sooner we get to the hospital, the better," Jack said, without taking his eyes off of the blonde.

He started a new IV, and lifted the bandage on the man's head, revealing a long, deep bloody gash that started at the man's hairline and traveled to his right ear. It would leave a scar unless he underwent plastic surgery. Betsy had heard such talk within her closed doors before, she didn't need to have it repeated.

"What can I do?" Steve asked, intense.

"Sit back and let me do my job," Jack said, terse as he worked on trying to revive Danno.

Betsy felt pride in her teammate, and pushed herself to go even faster, the other vehicles be damned. A small Toyota Camry made it into the far lane just in time to miss being shunted by Betsy's side. The driver looked shaken, but Betsy felt no remorse. She had a job to do, a man's life to save, and she would do her best to make sure that the loud, argumentative little blonde detective made it out of her doors to argue with his partner another day.

Betsy took the corner that led to the hospital's emergency entrance so fast that she nearly flew in on two wheels. Her tires screeched as the brakes were slammed, and she skidded a few feet as they finally came to a halt and a set of emergency doctors and nurses swarmed to her back doors.

Jack threw out a slurry of words that Betsy couldn't follow, because she was too focused on the quiet cursing that Steve was doing as he exited her in the wake of his partner being whisked away by the team of doctors. She watched silently as the doctors wheeled Danno away into the hospital and as Steve followed a few steps behind. She knew he would catch up to them soon. It was a certainty, whether it was the blonde, or the brunette, who was injured. Whichever one arrived on the gurney, the other would follow on foot.

Their partnership was a lot like the one that Betsy shared with Jack and Davis. They understood each other, even when they argued and blustered, and they cared, more than words could ever convey. That was something that Betsy could understand.


	2. Wink Wink

**Disclaimer:** See initial chapter.

 **A/N:** A follow up to the previous chapter, because some people wanted to know how Danny fared. I hope this does not disappoint. Happy New Year!

* * *

"Did you see that?" Danny asked, gesturing vaguely in front of him as they walked toward Steve's truck.

"What?" Steve's forehead wrinkled in concern and confusion as he followed Danny's line of sight to the ambulance that had brought them to the ER a little over a week ago. He recognized the rig sitting in the hospital's parking lot by the name painted on the side of it, Betsy.

Danny's concussion had been rather severe and there'd been some swelling of the brain. He'd been in the ICU for a few days, and the doctors had finally released him, provided that there was someone who could look out for him for the next week (at least). Steve had quickly volunteered and Danny's protest that he was a grown man who didn't need a babysitter had fallen on deaf ears and been negated when a migraine had overtaken him, leaving him speechless and in agony until his meds kicked in.

"I think that ambulance just winked at me," Danny said, gesturing toward the rig and frowning. He'd stopped walking.

Steve huffed out a dry laugh and shook his head. "Maybe I should take you back to the ER, Danny. I think that brick did some serious brain damage." The tone of Steve's voice was light, though there was an undertone of very real concern in it as well.

He'd really been worried about Danny. Danny had been in a coma for several hours and had been assailed by stomach churning headaches that had left him in tears for a few days that had seemed to be never ending. For awhile, he'd been speaking nonsense and utter gibberish. Steve was happy that the doctor's assessment that the aphasia would pass had been correct. The mild, retrograde amnesia had passed rather quickly (thankfully) as well.

All in all, Danny had been very lucky, and was well on the road to recovery, but this talk of an ambulance winking at him was throwing Steve for a loop. Maybe Danny wasn't as well as the doctors believed him to be.

"There, it did it again," Danny said, once more gesturing toward Betsy whose headlights had indeed seemed to wink on and off.

Steve shrugged. "It's probably just a trick of the sunlight."

Danny shook his head. His frown deepened. "That was _not_ a trick of the sunlight."

"So maybe the driver flashed the lights," Steve said. He was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"What driver?" Danny asked.

He pointed at the vehicle and Steve squinted through the windshield. There was no one in the ambulance.

The hairs on the back of Steve's neck stood on end. He wondered if he'd suddenly set foot in an alternate universe, like the one featured in that science fiction movie Danny had insisted on watching the other day. The one that had made Danny cry.

"Look, I'm sure that there's a logical explanation for the 'winking'," Steve said. As soon as the words left his mouth, Betsy's left headlight turned on and off.

Danny laughed and smirked at Steve when the headlights flashed again, as though they were, indeed, winking. "Like what, Mr. Science?"

"Could be a short in one of the wires," Steve said, frowning when the right headlight blinked on and off as he spoke.

"An electrical short where both, then one, and then the other headlight blinks on and off?" Danny turned to Steve and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Sure," Steve said, though he didn't believe it himself. It was a better explanation than the one that Danny's wording - winked - hinted at. Not that Steve didn't believe in the supernatural. He did. He just didn't like to think of vehicles having minds of their own. He glanced quickly at his truck and then grimaced as he took in the damage to his truck. There were small dents, scrapes and the wheel wells were caked with dirt. He would hate to think that his truck had a mind of its own, and what it would think of him and his treatment of it if it did.

Danny shook his head and rolled his eyes at Steve and then started toward the truck, which was parked not too far away from where they'd been standing. Not too far from where 'Betsy' was parked.

"If I were you, I'd be afraid, too," Danny said.

"Afraid of what?" Steve asked, scoffing.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe of your truck taking umbrage to your poor treatment of it and plotting your demise," Danny said, laughing as he patted Steve on the back.

Betsy laughed, too, and watched as the pair continued their conversation on the way to Steve's truck. Steve wordlessly helped Danny into the truck, and Betsy sighed in relief, sending another 'wink' in their direction, and getting one in return from Steve's truck as Steve pulled out of his parking spot.


End file.
